Till a Century
by Don'tEvenHaveAGun
Summary: (Continuation of: I Cannot Leave) Their children always read books about villains never winning the princess at the end. However, it felt like their mother rewrote the books and didn't abide by the stereotype.
1. Chapter 1

**Till a Century **

_Just like a crow chasing the butterfly._

_**The Signs:**_

Her hand dances, firmly so. Fingertips fiddling with the cloth of her dress, humming languidly a cheerful tune; dawning to her environment of a lazy day underneath the everglade. She feels warmth against the porcelain of her face as a balance of sunrays trickle between the hands of branches that protruded proudly from trees. For the moment, she feels at ease. Listening to the performers that practiced around her sleeping form, idly watching the circus children duck between the thick roots of tall grass.

Alice leans against the bark of the tree, barely listening to the chatter around her. "And is Miss Alice comfortable?" One performer would ask while taking the stroll pass her tree and into the thick turf of swarming grass; a gentle gale riddled the pasture, and ruffled the hem of Alice's dress.

"As comfortable as my body will allow." Alice hummed slowly, sighing almost to her own readjusting. "I'll tell you where it hurts the most." Alice huffed, almost humorously when she thought about her condition, "The spine. I've read this was normal – sure, but books could never prepare me on how uncomfortable my body would be."

"Do you wish for me to retrieve something more proper for you to lean against?" The acrobat offered and Alice was quick to wave off the offer with a flick of her hand and a subtle smile. "No thank you. I truly need to sit up straight. I must admit – I've been lazy lately."

"In all due respect, Miss Alice, it is to be expected." The faceless performer chuckled, his hands clapping eagerly together. "I must insist. Allow me to retrieve something for you. Perhaps you crave the soda popcorn?" The performer bounced on heel, his clothes jingling to every movement.

Alice inwardly wanted to gag; who came up with the bright idea of popcorn and soda? Alice already banished her cravings that gnawed in the breaking hours of dawn – but she was never desperate enough to understand the joys of soggy popcorn that churned in various colors of soda. Alice nervously chuckled, not meaning to be rude, "No – no. I'm perfectly fine with leaning against this tree and watching the rest of you practice."

"Nothing at all? You're completely sure, Miss Alice? A pillow? How about a blanket? It is no hassle – if you believe that." The faceless performer went on.

"I'm truly fine." And truly, she was. Mindlessly, her hand graced the swell of her stomach and rubbed in a slow circle. She was at peace.

**White:**

The man loomed near, almost trailing Alice with every twist and corner she indulged in. Of course, the Jester would offer his hand to the young maiden with child, _his child. _And of course, Alice would decline the offer of the slide of hand to guide her. "I'm fine. I wasn't born yesterday. I can walk on my own." Alice mumbled irritably, fingers skimming through a market stall table. Her fingertips brushed dainty against fabric and layers of colors that seemed to catch her eye.

"Hm. Mood swings, I suppose?" White chuckled warmly, "And I have no doubt, dear Alice. Don't blame me – blame the land. A pregnant Foreigner of our world is a –"He cleared his throat, "privilege." He tries to present her with his hand again. Scornfully, she narrows her eyes at the snow-pale hand, before turning her back to him to carry on her window-shopping. She wasn't in the mood; not with her back in pain and her odd need to move around rather than laze about. "And – here my lovely Alice wounds me." The Ringmaster grinned, "And declines my love so."

"I'm not rejecting you." Alice bit off, "I just do not feel like being touched." She folds several garments and hangs them on the side of her arm to checkout for later.

"That's not what she was begging eight months prior." The mask attached to White's hip sang, mocking her. "I can remember it," the mask crackled evilly, "does the phrase _'Put it in me. Put it in me. Please, don't stop.'_ ring a bell, princess?" White is quick to snap his hand over the mask, silencing the laugh that echoed within the confines of the glassy face.

"Pay Joker no mind, dear Alice." White masked his counterpart's laugh with his own subtle one.

Alice's lips thinned, and her eyes widen up at the man. White's single eye reminds her of blood; menacing and longing. His smile is pulled wicked, his features truly hard to read even if she squints her eyes and tilts her head. This reaction only causes Alice to frown, and retreat to her everyday affairs. "Regardless," She mutters behind her dulled pink lips, "I don't need you treating me like a child. I – know my way around the circus grounds."

"And I do not doubt your abilities to get around. Oddly –"White straightened out his clothes, fidgeting on the foreign feeling of _caring. _ It disgusted him on how he, and his counterpart turned out; sniveling, deranged men that was placed in a goose-chase of rounding their not so kind – rather moody, pregnant Outsider. (She can be kind depending on the occasion and weather. Not so much today.) "- It must be natural to bicker over your significant other. Tell me, fair Alice, is this how foolish men in your world react? The feeling is annoying. Worrying – how troubling." Still, the clown would smile even if his words didn't match up with his features; horrifying happy.

"Depends on the man." Alice noted drolly, scooting about the man to look over the table that was decorated in gold and pretty bobbles that caught her fancy. "Though, there is nothing troubling to raise concern. Be off now."

The Ringmaster circled the maiden, ignoring the vivid frown that plastered over her thin lips. "Hey, now. Is that any way to talk to someone who only offers their support?" His hands plucked at the fabric that Alice carried, and placed them upon his forearm. His daring, unbalanced crimson eye staring the young woman down; his slender, spiderlike fingers slowly sliding up the length of her arm, then curved over her shoulders to pull her into his good graces. "Such a bitter woman." The clown hummed when his lips pressed firmly to her forehead, smirking into the delicate skin.

Velvet kissed the lining of her face, her fingers curling into the fabric of his chest, trying to push him away without prevail. "Can you not do that now?" Her voice fell between the lines of a whisper, slurring when his head tilted down to press his lips against hers, he'd do it again to tempt a deeper frown upon her lips; he'd smile knowing that he could do whatever he wished.

"Hush." He teased calmly, "Now, listen to me." His hands slid back down, mapping out a shiver upon her flesh. One hand moved to brush against the swell of her stomach, while the other reached up to cup her chin, sliding his thumb over her bottom lip. The man kept true to his hallow-point smile, but his eyes filled to the brim with insanities and melancholy promises – he wasn't right in the head, but Alice seemed to denounce the blemish. It dawned upon her that she cared, even if she never meant to fall into the arms of the bluntly mad. "You tell me not to treat you like a child. Knowing so, that you are with my child. How can you ask me not to bother you? Silly, girl. Might as well get over it." He leaned back in to give her another peck, a simple kiss.

There was no denying the proximity at that moment; standing within the middle of the marketplace.

**Black:**

It was a push. A rather forced push.

Alice stood her ground, seething at the man before her. Unfazed, Black calmly brushed off his warden uniform. "Such a bratty girl." The man mused, grinning hard over the woman who dared him an inch closer. Still, his shoes clicked against the concrete of the prison, making his way to press back against the woman; the object of his own twisted affection. Hands gripped at the bars from over her shoulders, her body bumping into the cell behind her; the cage rasped over the added weight.

"I'm not in the mood. I'm tired." Alice noted and Black purposely ignored the information.

"Still doesn't explain your reason of pushing me. And here – I was wishing in insisting you to the bedroom." The watch-keeper simply stated, inclining his head to catch a better visual of Alice's face; she turned her head away and making it blatantly obvious that she didn't care about the cautious glare he supplied her with.

"Simply luring me." The woman huffed.

"Me? Lure you? All the f- no. Now, would I trick you?" His fingers curled dangerously around the bars, caging her like a startled animal; preying and hovering over her smaller form, claiming. "You've been bitching lately, and it's gotten on my nerves. Now, I'm not going to take it like that bastard clown. You can drop the act. Tch. Bloody woman."

Alice pushed against his chest, attempting to remove him from her space again. The warden remained firm, and instead went to gripping the side of her hip and her forearm. "Will you stop? Damn." In vain, Alice's fingers curled against his uniform, nails digging into the dark fabric.

"I told you I'm not in the mood! I'm sick, now leave me alone." Alice shot back, but the man kept his grip firm against her and began to wrestle her form against his; he enclosed her against his chest, and the hand that held her arm quickly shifted to the small of her back, pressing her hips against his; the swell of her pregnancy pushing against his abdomen.

"Will you shut up? You're giving me a headache." He muttered against her forehead. While he spoke in vile intent, his actions proved differently; his fingers moved in slow circles against the lower portion of her back, his other latched over the upper section to hold her securely against his chest. "Now, what the fuck has been up with you lately? I can't even get in a word without you bitching at me for every little thing." His tone dropped an octave, his steady breathing blushed against her skin.

"I'm sick. I'm tired. I just want to go to sleep without you bothering me." Alice repeated, jerking against his touch. Once she realized she wasn't going to escape, she settled into his hold.

"So you've made it known. I could practically hear you yelling down the halls." Black hummed, his gaze was riddled unimpressed, his lips thinned out and wasn't as menacing as before he caught her in his metaphorical web.

Alice scoffed, "And you persist in bothering me!"

"I only deem it right. Might as well get over it, princess, you're stuck with me." Black noted drolly, almost bored over Alice's exchange. "I understand that you're pregnant. That you must complain. Whatever. But can't you at least greet me before sulking off into the bedroom?" He leaned in and nipped the side of her neck, his teeth grazing over her flesh, "Fuck." He muttered in a harsh whisper. "You're irritating."

"You only contribute." She retorted, still trying to move away from his touch; he wouldn't tolerate it.

"Not I, you bring it upon yourself." He moved his lips up her neck, one peck underneath her jawline, then one placed in the middle of her throat; her back was pressed firmly against the jail cell gate, hands roaming and cupping. "Now, quit fighting and humor me, Alice." Black chided, but his smug remark was replaced with a more balanced grin.

The girl began to settle, feeling at ease once his hand finally graced over her stomach, thumbing gently over the fabric of her dress. "Are you scared?" He finally let out, ravishing her with ghosted kisses against the hollow of her neck.

"Of course." Her eyes closed, trying to sooth her erratic breathing.

"Why?" He beckoned. His lips moved away from her skin, his eye moving to level her out again, nuzzling his forehead against hers. "Why is my annoying Outsider scared?" He playfully repeated.

Slowly, her eyes opened. A single crimson hue stared back into her ocean-complex. Nervously, she bit her lip, leaning herself back into his touch. "Why? Can't you also admit that you are scared? I'm sure even Joker could admit to the fear in change."

Black lowly chuckled, "You assume that I'm scared? Not I, dear girl. I find it enticing."

"Or so you say. You are a man of lies." Alice's lips slowly shifted north, sighing in content to the warmth of his hand brushing against her stomach.

**Bed: (Shorts)**

"No."

"Shut up, and move over. Here." Black holds up the blanket, waiting for Alice to slide into his space. He tugs on the blanket impatiently.

"It just hurts to lay down. The baby is basically laying on my spine, well it feels like that." Alice kneeled upon the bed, her knees brushing against the plush of the bed, her hands fisting into the covers. She's experiencing a shortness in breath, her body overall uncomfortable over the change.

"Lay on your side, and press yourself up against me. I'll help you go to sleep." Black bickered and Alice cringed. "Not like that! Damn it! Can't I say anything without you taking it to a different context?" Black leaned over to tug at Alice's arm, slowly coaxing her to turn away from him and lay upon her side. Alice gasped in pain, waiting for Black's arms to engulf her.

"I'm still in pain." The foreigner whined, feeling the slide of Black's hand that was placed on her hip.

"I heard you the first time." The warden sighed, curling against her body. His hand rotated in comforting circles about the muscle of her hip, moving the touch to the lower section of her back, feeling her body tense then relax under the care. "See? Better? Try to get some sleep now." If Alice wanted to be truthful with herself, she would have guessed a note of comforting upon his foulmouthed, silver-tongued words.

She moved her body closer to him till her back was flush against his chest. And after a thirty-minute process she finally drifted into a dance of a dream; sighing humbling under the touch. After an hour, however, Black still didn't find the need of sleep.

The bed shifted in weight, and under the dark silhouette, Black could see his counterpart's frame. White moved against the adjacent end of the bed, nuzzling his face into the crook of Alice's neck; Alice heeded nothing, but shifted slightly in her sleep.

"Really? I mean, _really?" _Black whispered in vain, his tone dropping dangerously to the man on the opposite end. Possessively, Black shifted Alice's sleeping figure closer to his.

-x-

**A/N:** Time to sum shit up! It must be confusing considering both Joker's dad to Alice's child. Well – if you wanted to be technical, they would be since they are one entity. It sort of makes more sense in Diamond no kuni no Alice. (One entity that are the same, but not.) If it bothers you that much just think of them as separate? Hence, my reason for separate name categories.

These will be dabbles of Alice and the Jokers that revolve around their kid(s)

**Reasons: **It was more out of request. A continuation of "I Cannot Leave" This fic will consist with creepy shit – even if it may seem sweet now. Whatever.

**Rating: A High Teen for Language and implied sexual themes. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Till a Century**

_Dandelions lost in the summer sky _

_**Dearest Percival:**_

Outside the medical tent the party burned on. A riot of colors explode, confetti lingering upon the gentle gale of night-passing, along with cheers that plagued on. Acrobats would converse with aerialists, animal wrangles would bicker with ballets over the moment's event. Though, the topic would always result back to The Foreigner that bore a healthy child. Something marvelous occurred, something breathtaking, when announcement broke news and the circus roared in good tidings. There was a sense of pride if an entire plot, such as performers, would congratulate you like a family; an odd lot to be considered family.

Lights flared against high-tops, and crowds of patrons still flooded the outskirts; they'd come in droves. Even if it was a time of merriment, a job was to be worked – and that was simply Wonderland law. Though, it didn't cross judgment that today's performance was going to be the best and most ecstatic one; more importantly, just as dangerous as every other show.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the most extravagant show in Wonderland!" _

There was a trick to the trade, and Alice could hear his voice over the cheers that echoed constantly, and through the thick barrier of tent. She leaned back against the mountain of pillows, peering over the sea of blankets that wrapped her form, and indulging in the tiny warmth that pressed to her bare-chest; her child. Her new daughter.

The medical tent seemed ill-equipped in the matters of childbirth, but Joker insisted that his child would be born upon his grounds, within the circus' forest; he also promised the top care for his dearest Alice and his child-to-be. And Alice would oblige to that curling grin, that ruby-eye that stared aimlessly at her. She found no fear in his vision, not in a long time, and so she agreed to whatever he had planned.

Alice has felt this feeling before, a strange, giddy, kind of sadness that lurks within the confines of her heart; staring down at the bundle of her daughter. Tucked away. Guarded against her ribcage. Listening to the ballad of voices and dawning screams of excitement that raged on within the main tent that bloomed like a flower.

Black cannot leave the Prison Realm, and White is to appease to the crowd that demands entertainment. And so, Alice lays in wait, holding on to her own happiness. Alice would flutter a smile, loving in every aspect when she stared down at the little girl; tinged porcelain-white like her father, with a tuff of red-roots that were barely poking from the child's skull, and when the child decided to open her puffy eyes – Alice was then greeted with vivid red.

While Alice finds the notion of holding her child joyous, she can't help to feel the urge of something poignant, something strumming at her heartstrings when she leans closer to her daughter's chest. She'd listen to the off-key of a drumming heart that pumps blood through those tiny veins, which supplies life and ensures emotion. The sound seemed so distant, almost foreign, and Alice almost forgot the sound of another being's heart rhythm. (Other than hers, of course). _Her daughter also possessed a heart – she'd be destined an Outsider much like her own mother. _

While Alice contemplated this idea, this stunning realization, she began to cry softly. Cradling her daughter closer to her bare-chest. Sorrowfully terrified for what life had to promise in Wonderland. She'd come to expect that the Jokers would ensure support for their own kind, but Alice began to ponder if that'd be enough.

Still, Alice shook the thought from her head and smiled bitterly; mostly out of joy, while the other half held vexation. Jumping to subjects other than fear of the future, Alice began to run down names for her child quietly. She'd clutch the bundle and rock back against her mountain of pillows, finding ease to her spine.

She ran stories of ship captains that lured whales upon the Atlantic and traveled the Pacific, also enduring the high tide; mermaids and priest oddly came into the equation, along with marriages that spawned from fable foreign tongues. Alice, humorously, thought of knights and princesses – along with villains that sought a means to an end. Then, it came to Alice like a blur. The name Percival. A boy's name no less, but oddly attractive to think about.

Alice remembered a story from King Arthur's travels and banter of adventure. A man named Percival stuck out from the rest; being known as one of King Arthur's legendary Knights of the Round Table.

_The name Percival had to be it. _It'd be something to ask the Jokers once they had the time and opportunity to come see her. She'd have to wait for White, and she'd have to be stable enough to venture to Black.

_Six months later…_

_**White:**_

Touch. Texture. Never-ending. Dexterous fingers curl into fabric. Wine-red eyes widen to the sudden realization and sensation of a different texture; tiny fingertips running down fabric, tracing out shapes, and learning new boundaries.

A subtle day, a practical day, on the outskirts of the circus. Alice suggested an outing within the forest, somewhere where the trio could, perhaps, obtain a few precious moments of alone time. The dabble of playing cards within the thick of grass, or the educational value of letting Percival run her hands through the long blades of grass. Something different. A new scenery that unfolded, other than the loud colors that loomed within circus' culture; she'd learn about the abstracts of nature, or whatever Wonderland had to offer for the moment.

"It's abnormal on how tired I am." Alice murmured into the Jester's side. Eyes closed, turned on her side, and hand curled into the ringmaster's fabric with her head resting against his shoulder; she was beginning to doze, unnaturally so. Eyelids growing heavy, her face warm against the Joker's side, who'd idly stroke his spiderlike fingers down the bare of her arms then against the fabric of her dress sleeve.

"Wouldn't consider it unnatural. I'd say – acceptable." The ringmaster muttered behind his fixated grin, staring aimlessly at the thick of branches from overhead; they'd crisscross, and the leaves would rustle against the gentle wind. While one arm was preoccupied with curling Alice against him, his other rested upon the back of his daughter whose taken to slumber upon his chest; slowly, he'd brush his fingertips up and down the infants back, dipping to run his thumb fondly against the back of her skull, feeling the fine hair of red peak.

"Not acceptable." Alice corrected stubbornly, "I'm just so tired." Her eyes finally accepted temptation, nuzzling into the darken fabric of his jacket. "It wouldn't be healthy to sleep all day. But the weather is so lovely, so –"She'd yawn, sighing contently into his attire. She didn't even care to continue at that point and just bared the thought of listening to his clock that ticked purposely underneath the floor of his chest; she curled against The Ringmaster and began her own drift.

"Hm. Weak-willed. Not surprising, dear Alice." White would chuckle, and Alice would grumble incoherently; clenching tighter into his jacket. "Something to be expected. Yet again, something not to be unexpected. A person sleeps to not of their own accord, no, it'd be the body that demands -" He babbled, but cut off with Alice muttering, "Shut up. I don't want to listen to analogies." And the madman would chuckle again; low and deep.

"How rude," White added. "Hopefully, it's not something that could be inherited. The idea of Percival with your smart-mouth will make for troubling teenage years." It was always a joke. Everything he said was a joke. Nothing lining the thought of a simple, normal note. "Still –"The Ringmaster shifted from his position, slowly sitting up, cupping Percival securely against him so that she wouldn't slide from his chest. Alice would bitterly sigh, but kept curled upon the picnic blanket that sprawled underneath them.

Tiny Percival's eyes flew open, an observant baby, but not entirely keen to movement; it was questionable to her, but she'd rather indulge in sleep – much like young infants should. Her fingers curled into the scarf around White's neck, nodding off to seek slumber again. To only be raddled by the Joker's rocking motion; soothing, causing the child to yawn against White's chest. "What are you doing?" Alice inquired, effortlessly trying to sit up.

"Well," the man snickered, "We did talk about the educational value of Percival being out. You insisted, remember? Apparently, the circus is not enough." He shifted to stand, holding Percival close to his chest. "Though, you are right. It's no use being unaware in a world you are born into. Coming?"

Alice shot up, eyes wide, and she groaned lazily. "Fine." Quickly, she began to fold up the picnic blanket and White waited for her to situate herself before making the trip deeper into the forest.

They'd walk deeper within the forest without purpose. Stopping several times to observe a new backdrop or to converse about the properties of a certain plant. White would kneel with Percival, pulling down several flowers for her to touch. "Miss Percival," White freely spoke, "Look at these." The Ringmaster sat his daughter down among the ground, and the little girl would lean back against his leg as support while White fiddled and plucked at several vines and pulled from different shrubs till he retrieve a particular flower.

Something shrill catches the trio's attention. A tiny voice that peeks interest among the bed of flowers that White stumbled upon within the deep forest. At first, Alice was confused over the commotion until White began to laugh. The voices are annoying and even Percival begins to become upset over the sound; her face cringes, and tears begin to flow over the scare. "Damn, singing flowers." White mutters, his hazed crimson eye flickering over the bed of multi-assorted flowers. Alice leans over his shoulder, and the Ringmaster uses his other hand to stroke the side of his daughter's face to comfort her; wiping away the stray tears that stained her white face. "It's only noise, Percival." He'd go on, "No need to cry over rude weeds."

"And what an ugly weed you are." The violet from the bunch of greenery talks back. And when the voice shot back, the rest of the flowers began to scream their shrill scream; there was no form of art in their musical voices at the moment – only annoyance. Percival was getting ready to start crying again; their sharp voices caused pain to her sensitive hearing.

"Be quiet." White rasped, keeping true to that hollow-point grin, "I'll pick you all if you all don't shut up." And silence plagued the garden within the deep forest. Percival finally settled, finally observing the swaying garden that uttered whispers among each other.

"That was rude." Alice noted drolly.

"And flowers calling me an ugly weed is not? Dear Alice, are you favoring shrubbery over me? If that's the case – I feel you need to get your priorities straight." White humorously deflected.

There'd be another scream, something to snap Alice and White out of their bickering. "Stop!" The roses from the bunch hollered, and screamed with their tiny voices and muffled petals. Percival was leaning over the bed, stubby fingertips already making work to pluck at the crimson detail and pulling the petals.

"White! Stop her!" Alice pleaded, trying to lean over The Ringmaster's hunched over frame. "She's going to kill all the flowers!"

"Now – why in the Heavens would I stop her? I find it justly so." The man loomed over his daughter to protect her from Alice's hands. "You did say that you wanted Percival to experience nature. And this is Wonderland's nature. Settle now, and tell me you've never plucked flowers from their beds." He straightened his shoulders so Alice wouldn't crawl over him.

While the parents wrestled over dominance and the ethic of childrearing, Percival was having her time-of-day pulling the rude flowers from their roots.

_**Black:**_

"She won't stop crying!" Black walked to one end of the office, then paced back to the adjacent end. "Damn it." The Warden bickered, and he continued his pacing back and forth. Cradling his daughter close to his chest, feeling the white undershirt of his uniform dampen in one spot on his chest over the crying his daughter supplied him with. She's been crying for an hour. An hour of Hell that's been promised to the most feared man in Wonderland.

"You're holding her wrong." Alice moved over, trying to stand her ground in front of the man who kept moving about The Foreigner. "She needs support." Alice tried to pry his hands, fingers tangling with fingers; informing the proper routine.

"I know how to hold my daughter, woman. She just won't stop crying!" Black jerked away from Alice, sharply turning to the opposite end. His shoes clicked against the hard floors, his diameter hard to understand. "And whatever your telling hasn't worked either. She's just crying to hear her own voice at this point!" There was a bounce to his step, possibly trying to rock her calmly with every harsh step.

The little girl sobbed, her wine, curious eyes squinting painfully together. Her mouth hung open like a gaping cave. Her hands fisted into the Warden's uniform, holding on to her father for dear life; she pressed her face against his chest, almost heaving to whatever pain has stricken her. "Well. Something had to bother her? When I left she was fine, but when I got back she was crying. What happened?!" Alice had to use her vocal strength so she could be heard over her daughter's bumbling cries.

The Warden sighed angrily, turning back to his lover. "She fell!" The man spat out, "She fell, damn it! I was working over several papers at my desk, trying to fuckin' organize. And I guess when she was playing – or whatever, she tried to stand, but fell. I've done my best in trying and console her. But you see where this has gotten me?"

Alice glowered up at the man, biting out, "Will you hold your tongue around Percival?! She is starting to pick up words! And I don't need her repeating whatever you say!" The man lowered his single, baleful eye at the woman before him; his frown almost permanent against the structure of his handsome face.

There was a stare down. A long and hateful one till Black backed down, "Sorry." He murmured, "I just –"He huffed, "Can't get her to stop crying. It's been nonstop for the past hour."

Alice stood there stunned by his apology, holding her breath then slowly letting it out; she tensed but eased into the current situation. "It's okay. Let's just – hmmm. The fall definably scared her." The Warden slowly nodded to Alice's words, running his hand tenderly up and down his daughter's back, calming her shaking with every raddled and dragged out cry. "Maybe she's crying for a different reason now. Have you tried feeding her?"

"She wouldn't take the bottle." Black informed.

"Have you changed her?" Alice inquired, running down the list in her head.

"Nothing to be changed. She's clean." He quickly answered; slowly growing irritated by the crying again.

Then it came to Alice, and she gasped over the realization. "Singing." Alice finally stammered out, her hands clapping together, "You haven't tried singing to her yet? That always does the trick for her."

"I don't sing." Black argued. "Why don't you?" He pulled his daughter from his chest, trying to place the infant into his lover's hands. Surprisingly, Alice backed up with a sly smirk painted over her features. "What are you doing –"

"-Go ahead, sing to her."

"Huh?" His face froze, a pregnant pause. "What are you doing?! Take her!"

"No, no." Alice paced out of the room slowly, "I seemed to remember promising White with helping set up the circus' market stalls. So –"Alice sprinted out of the office and down the amble halls of the prison, disappearing down the halls.

"You're a liar! I know lies!" Black yelled out, causing the child in his arms to shutter and resume to her crying. "Ugh." He closed the door to his office, holding his daughter closer to his form and rocking her back again. "I just think you're doin' this on purpose now." He paced back to his office chair, slumping back against the leather interior.

"Come on, stop crying. I know you've gotta be tired." The man reasoned, and the note almost sounded like pleading. The Warden's warm hand pressed against the baby's back, leaning her forward so that she'd rest against his chest; her crying did not cease.

The idea of singing did come to mind, but he abolished the thought and instead leaned forward to rummage through one of his desk drawers. His fingers dove into the space, pulling back papers till he found whatever he wished to find. Caked in dust, and long forgotten, Black pulled out a tiny music box; tinged in gold with tiny details that's been rubbed away with age. "I don't sing." He spoke to his daughter, "So – just listen to this." He sighed heavily, cranking the machinery.

When he held the box to her face, she didn't notice it. Once the piece started playing, her whaling cries died down and was replaced with childlike wonder; almost captivated. Her downpour eyes lightened, her ruby-eyes shimmered in curiosity to the haunting lullaby. Finally, Black would chuckle under the sudden change – something so simple resulted to an end of a headache. "Like that? Eh? Good." He leaned back into his chair, still holding the music box up to the child's face.

Alice returned with White after several hours of delay. They'd muse over the silence that lingered within the office on the end of the prison, but eventually would laugh over the display of opening the door. Within the far right of the office laid a sleeping Warden, with his sleeping daughter that rested against his chest.

_**Bed (Shorts)**_

"It's your turn to get her." Black whispered harshly over Alice's sleeping form, addressing his frustrations to his counterpart who'd idly pulled Alice into his grasp.

"Not I, Joker. If I recall – I was the one who went to the baby last time." The Ringmaster muttered tiredly into Alice's hair, taking in the aroma of smothered roses.

Alice finally awoke to the bickering, pushing Black and White away from her. "If no one is going to get Percival then, I will." Sluggishly, she wormed her away out of the covers and tumbled off the bed. Alice disappeared from the room, to only return several minutes later with her daughter in her arms. The baby finally eased under the touch and Alice slumped over the edge of the bed.

The men finally returned to her side, leaning over her lap to capture a view of Percival who'd settle and fell into her own slumber again. Black ran his hand slowly up and down Alice's back, while White leaned down to his daughter to brush against the side of her face.

**A/N: If you're not familiar with Alice's Looking Glass, the first thing Alice sees is the flowers. Rude flowers that call her an ugly weed – so I had the flowers call White an ugly weed. **

**Sorry for taking so long to update. Christmas, and setting up college courses. The works. Also! Don't worry about my "The Painted Woman" fic. I'm still working on it!**

**I'm still making corrections. So I'll be updating this fic several times. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Till a Century**

_For diamonds do appear to be just like broken glass to me. _

_**Good Evening, Madam Foreigner**_

_(One-years-old.)_

It was all for the show. Something to cater to for the other half that has already seen the show and just wanted to wander around the park. An ill-appropriate stall, something humorous determining which Joker Alice was talking to. She was the "self-proclaimed" fortune teller and she absolutely hated it.

Of course, White was the one who suggested it – out of humor and to gander humiliation on Alice's end; he'd show her how to haggle and how to lie with the flip of cards. Tarot cards spread across the table, his fingers quickly flipping over the pictures that flooded with color and far-off writings. He'd show her the imagery and ran down the meaning of each card. And if she forgot, he constantly reminded her to lie and talk about the romanticized emotion that people felt – what they mostly craved for: love.

"I really don't want to do this." Alice slumped back against her wooden chair. Lazily shuffling through the cards while trying to balance Percival on her lap; the little girl was growing restless, annoyed by how many times her mother moved her hands away from the colorful cards.

"It'd be fun. Maybe later I'll show you how to read palms." The Jester grinned, leaning over the table to grab Alice's hands; she'd bat him away with the flick of the wrist.

"I'm only doing this once. You hear me? Once." The Outsider grumbled, her arm wrapping back around her daughter securely; her fingers dug against her daughter's dress irritably, straightening the child's attire; beautifully childish, adorable to every account, lined in reds and blacks and strumming gold. Percival's dress was picked out by one of the Jokers. Alice just couldn't remember which.

"Such a stubborn woman." White sighed in defeat, standing from the adjacent end of Alice's table. He'd then learn across the table, seizing Alice close so he could lay a single parting kiss; Alice frowned, but complied and returned the kiss; she could feel the eerily placed smile he pressed against her lips, then he'd incline his head lower to peck his daughter on the forehead. "Do be good to our patrons, Alice. Remember to smile." He straightened his figure, tipped his head, and then left the fortuneteller tent to attend the next big event within the big-top.

It was a slow day, a few degrees warmer than what Alice was used to. Boring and slow, except for the voices that pried outside the tent. Percival was placed on the ground, next to Alice's feet; she set out a blanket for her to lay on, a pillow, and a few of her blocks that Percival enjoyed to toss around or to touch; fingering the letters that were carved against the wooden blocks. The little girl hummed happily, giggled to the clanking sound of tapping the block against the table leg. Alice sat there and endured it, almost falling asleep at the table; hands closing and head inclined to rest upon the solid surface.

Alice was quickly jolted from her dower, hands quickly grasping at the table, shuffling the deck to make herself look busy. "Relax. Geez." Black mocked her with a sly smirk, crossing his arms over his chest. "The b-"He'd clear his throat when his single eye lingered down to his daughter, "The clown is taking my shift."

Black was only able to venture around circus grounds, anything farther than his original destination was always a bother for him. So when Alice saw the man lined in Jester uniform rather than Warden Attire, she'd smile hard. "What?"

"Nothing, nothing." Alice kept her simple grin plastered, watching the man sit down in the chair in front of her table. "You have a show coming up I suppose?" Alice commented and the man huffed.

"Sure." He leaned forward to drawl Percival on his lap, then leaned back against the chair to situate himself. "But the idiot did say he put you to work. But never clarified at what. I was – curious." His sadistic complex flooded his expression. The colorful clothing didn't match up with his aspect; it was only a mere disguise masking his motive. Morbid to every detail. Oddly – Alice was drawn; to not one, but to both personas that the Jesters showed her.

"So –"The Warden slowly spoke, "are ya going to read my fortune or are you going to just sit there with that stupid look on your face?" Percival began to make her slow climb against her father's chest, trying her best to decipher the situation; she only cared about gripping the earring that daggled from the Jester's ear. To Percival's disappointment, Black gently moved her hand away, thumbing gently against her knuckle.

"Ah? Oh! What do you want to know?" Alice shuffled with the tarot cards, fiddling through the lining of the hard cards; stacking them in front of her then spreading them out facedown.

"You're not supposed to ask me. You're supposed to tell me what I'm lookin' for, duh." The Warden groaned, mindlessly trying to settle Percival's wandering hands that gripped at the fabric of the jester's outfit, tugging at the round, gold rings that decorated his neck; she'd also go for the jewel that held the scarf together. "That's what a fortuneteller does."

"Do be easy on the poor girl, Joker. You are her first client after all." White's voice sounded from the porcelain mask that strapped to Black's hip. "Shut up." Black shot back, not having a free hand to clamp the mask's glass mouth shut. "Come on, drawl my cards and tell me whatever backwash lie you came up with." The Warden dawned impatiently.

Nervously, Alice drew the first card her finger slid over. Ironically, _Le Mat _was drawn; the fool, key number eleven: The Spirit of the Aether. "Well? What does it mean?" Black loomed, he tilted his head, amused by the way Alice's mouth hung open for the moment.

Alice cleared her throat, slowly piecing together her fabled prediction, "The Fool, the divinatory meaning, means upright-beginnings. Journeys that relate more to a mental wellbeing than an actual trip; unexpected happenings. It also means – happiness, optimism, energy, and force. Sometime soon, you will have to make a spontaneous choice that will determine your mental health. The reverse meaning can lead you to rash or impulsive decisions – so be weary." Alice waved her arms for dramatic effect, and even Black couldn't help to chuckle at Alice's fondness to not take this completely serious. He indulged in her innocence, and so did White who'd listen contently on the receiving end of the glass mask.

"That's my girl! Completely believable. Go ahead, draw another card." White's voice echoed from the mask.

Alice was feeling more confident now, now that she's gained such praise. She'd drawl another one, and her doe eyes squinted in thought, then widened with realization. _L'imperatrice; _The Empress, key number fourteen: The Daughter of the Mighty Ones. "The Empress. Love and parenthood. Maternal care –"Alice snorted, and rolled her tongue at, "Maternal care." She tried to cease her mocking snicker with her hand, and Black stared her down hard.

"Funny? If you hadn't notice the child we share –"He gestured to the child that was so keen at pulling at whatever article he owned; still threatening to pull at the jewelry from his ear.

"Sorry, sorry." Alice waved it off, listening to the small echo of a laugh tumble from the mask on Black's hip. "Depending on surrounding cards it also means marriage and pregnancy. Reversed of that is lack of affection." Alice shot him a playful glance and the man's frown burned deep, "Might I suggest a more of an understanding to the values of intimacy?"

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Black accused.

"Oh, no." Alice commented sarcastically.

"Then drawl my last card, woman."

Alice fiddled with the last card, pulling the card directly from the top. _La Mort; _Death: The Lord of the Gate of Death, key number twenty-four. "Interesting." Alice huffed out.

"Well?" Black dragged out.

"Upright, the card means the beginning of a new life –"

"-Please tell me you're not pregnant again. Is this some ploy of hinting? Because I don't think I can handle more children trying to tug at my earring." Black joked, and Alice fumed.

"I am not pregnant! Ever heard of coincidence? As I was saying - this also connects to your first card; major changes, an end to a phase that served its purpose. Abrupt and complete. Reversed, it can mean both painful and unpleasant; a refusal to face fear. Heed shallow waters, Mister Joker." Alice waved her hands again, faking an accent that seemed outlandish. "Now this is the part where you pay me." Alice leaned over her table to rattle the can on the edge.

"Are you getting smart with me?" The Warden's brows rose, trying his best not to fully mock his lover, "You do realize the penalty?"

"I lied about your fortune. I should be rewarded for something. You were my hardest and only customer. Come on –"Alice's confidence peeked, her smile never fading, "humor me." _Humor her?_ _How rich. _

"Humor? So you memorized cards, that any halfwit could do, and strung together a meaningless conclusion." Black was quiet for a moment, pondering over what he just said. Then, he fully broke into an evil smirk that had Alice reeling back a tad, "Sure. I do believe there is a reward in order." He leaned down to place his daughter back on her play mat; Percival whined, trying to tug at his sleeves to pick her back up. In response, Black caressed a gentle hand against her face to settle her.

Once Black broke full contact from his daughter, he leaned over the solid surface of Alice's table. Alice tried to move away from his grasp, but he still jerked her by the shoulder. "I was just joking about –"Silence followed when his lips pressed roughly against hers, moving a hand to tangle into her hair, holding her in place while she received her forced reward.

"That doesn't sound much like payment, Joker." White muttered from the mask.

_**White:**_

"The young miss is absolutely adorable. You can only imagine how she'll look once she's all grown." An aerialist leaned into Alice's space; her eyeless face brimming with utter infatuation over the matters of Alice's daughter – who was being carried around the circular ring by her father; White took to duty of stock check, and animal care results. Percival sat on his hip, her fingers entwined against the dark fabric of her father's jester attire.

"Most definably." Alice nodded, "Though – I believe she'll dome her father's looks. She already, mostly does." The Foreigner stated so. Fondly glaring off the side of the performer's face to stare at The Jester and her daughter who'd look disinterested in her father's schedule. Alice was mildly surprised that Percival has been so obedient with White Joker's movement and fumbling with other performers who'd needed to be updated on current performance.

"You believe so, Miss Alice?" A ballet dancer stood near, reeling her dainty head to the aerialist and The Outsider. "Even so – she may have acquired your grace and charm." The dancer hummed pleasantly, "I don't know if that will be a good thing or not. I'd say an advantage. Beauty and intellect would be a most favorable burden."

The Aerialist chuckled warmly, arms crossing over her chest, "She'd be stealing the show from us if that was the case. I do expect that the boss would want his own kin to perform with him. I just know she'll grow up with much talent."

The Dancer perked up, delicate fingers touching her bottom lip, "You believe so?" Her smile broke all different shades, "How exciting! Miss Alice, what says you?" The Dancer's hands clapped together, breaking Alice from her reverie.

"Hm?" Alice's hands flattened and rolled over her apron, "It'd be up to Percival. Not I, nor Joker in that matter. But as a mother – I actually fear that possibility. I'm amazed by all your performances, but setting my own daughter in that dangerous situation terrifies me to no end. Call me paranoid." She spoke plainly, eyes trailing over the man that still held her daughter loosely to his hip. Percival's eyes have seemed to droop and has already sought refuge to sleep against her father's side. Alice found it remarkable that Percival could even sleep with the chaos of the circus and White Joker's voice that reverberated over circus' grounds.

It'd be an hour before Alice even had the time to capture The Ringmaster's attention. His stained, wine eye full of mirth when The Outsider approached with a fleeting smile that only turned inquisitive. Percival was awake, hands still gripping tight against the fabric of White's uniformed shoulder; her eyes widening with her mother that started walking closer and closer. "Well, look who it is. Our favorite Outsider." His voice chimed, mockingly bowing with his daughter in hand. Percival huffed, and pressed her face to her father's shoulder for support over the sharp movement; a solid whine escaped the child's mouth.

"After breaking conversation with the performers and with you – doing whatever you do. I only reasoned it'd be necessary to come over and talk." Alice shrugged her shoulders, her smile finally flooding her expression when she caught the off color of her daughter's eyes that mirrored quizzical natures to the world around her.

"Necessary?" The Harlequin's head tilted, but still gestured for The Foreigner to draw near. "I wouldn't think of it as a chore to come talk to me."

"Don't take it like that." Alice pouted, hand waving off his comment. "Bloody man, you know entirely what I mean."

"Blissful as always. Eloquent – I wouldn't betray that as you. Can you ever say anything nice, dear Alice?" His eye narrowed, staring off at The Foreigner who erected her posture under his ruby gaze. He cleared his throat, "Nonetheless. If you must ask – in which you haven't – I had Percival walk a little today around the ring with me. She's growing stronger, Alice. In no time she won't need us holding her everywhere." The Jester brushed his hand fondly up and down his daughter's back.

Alice ignored his crud nature, his subtle anger that spiked in annoyance – complying with his better nature of faking happiness. "Ah? Really?" Alice still thought back to the performers, talking about Percival being thrown into the show; paranoia flooding.

The Jester nodded and bent down to place his daughter on the ground, politely holding out his hands so his daughter could latch. Percival did struggle, feet dragging and scooting against the gravel. "See, Alice. In no time she'll be running this sideshow. Can you only imagine?" The Ringmaster swelled with pride and Alice faked a smile.

"I assume so."

_**Black:**_

The only sound that could be heard down the stretch of amble hall was the click of the Black Joker's boots and the eerie clank of gates that bounced and dimmed into silence. Percival sat upon father's hip, hands curled into uniform, and stared on while her father patrolled the halls, head lulling to one side.

"Such a pretty little – snipe." Joker stops in his place, head turning to the opposing end of the hall. There was no exchange of words, just a simple stare – red eye haunting, watching the way the owner of the voice calls out, hands curled about bars; knuckles as white as bone. Percival's eyes averted along with her father's movements, eyes wide and curious to whatever uttered from the prisoner's mouth; muffled behind an animal mask filled with cotton. The child finds humor in the colorful mask and she begins to grin while trying to reach out, little pants of laughter escapes her mouth; innocent and well-balanced.

It wouldn't be unnatural that the prisoners have grown bold. Madness seems to wait for no man once they're locked under key for so long. Concrete was their calendar and their minds were their music that played endless.

"Such a pretty little creature." The prisoner sticks his hand out from the bar, voice dawning higher, more possessed in dabbling horrors. "I can only imagine you tricked that pretty foreigner to lie with you." The mask is pressed against the bar, hand still reaching out, still grabbing out to be met with void.

Joker makes no movement, he only stares; still holding his daughter that wormed playfully in his grasp, shrilling her baby talk. Babbling. "You probably laid her down. You probably laughed while you took her innocents. Men of your caliber do tend to be possessive. Did she cry? Did she cry also when she gave birth to that little – pretty abomination?" The twist of the prisoner's hand defines fault; index drawn, pointing aimlessly at The Warden who'd made no use of emotion. A bored expression painted, daunting to listen to the rest of the miserable dog's voice.

There'd be a chuckle, thick and damning, muffled by all that cotton that held up the man's mask. "When that little girl grows up. She'll know. She'll know that her father is evil, that she is not like the people of Wonderland. And you want to know the fucked up thing about this? Men will want her, everyone will want her just like her mother. _Even the prisoners _that are holed up in this place. Isn't that the game of Wonderland? Wanting curious things that are considered abnormal." The man's voice rises, his laughter curling into atmosphere, "She'll know. She'll know. She'll –"The Prisoner's voice is cut off by a cry of a child and a gunshot that penetrates the skull of the animal mask.

Black Joker holds up his gun. The pistol drapes it waterfall smoke from the barrel, smothered out by the late burn of singed cotton and flesh. The Prisoner's body slumps; the abhuman head pressed against bar and slowly slides onto the hard floors. Fingers unravel, and a hand sticks out from the bars – twitching. The body fades, leaving the clock that stopped on an odd hour.

The prison drowns with the startled voice of Percival, wailing uncontrollably to the sound that scared her. "Shh. Shh." The Warden goes, holstering his weapon that faded back into a whip. He presses his child's face against his chest. A gentle hand that's killed a man soothes his daughter into lulling hiccups.

_His hands write wrongs. _

_**Bed: **_

Percival fell asleep curled against Black Joker's body; his body loomed and slumped to one side while he cradled the gentle form of Percival.

Alice curled against White who has his back turned to her. Fingers trace, and trace into a bottomless night-cycle.

None of them has been sleeping well lately.

-x-

**A/N: **This story will not always be kind. You know, The Jokers are not the most pleasant guy(s) to be around.

I'm still editing this chapter and moving on to the next chapter with a little surprise.


	4. Chapter 4

**Till a Century**

_Genius only comes around in tales of fabled foreign tongues. _

_**Education**_

_Year four_

"A, B, C, D –"Percival huffed in annoyance, "E, F, G…" Then she slumped, "Mister Monrey, I already know my alph- al-" The child struggles on syllables; she clears her throat then sits up in her chair once the older man set down his tools, organizing the insides of clocks that spewed out over his workspace, "alphabet! Can I please go play now?" Impatiently, Percival swings her legs back and forth over the ledge of the chair; her fist bunched at the hem of her dress with annoyance.

"Absolutely not. Your mother has informed me to keep you rooted in that very seat. Now, to subside your need to move – might I suggest writing out your alphabet instead? Practice makes perfect." The Mortician drolly went on. Pulling back in his seat to rummaging through his desk drawers. Julius pulled out a white sheet of paper and a pen, scratching the surface several times to get the ink to flow. "How about this? I'll name off some words and you'll try to spell them to the best of your ability."

Percival's studies were rather tiring. Annoying to a child's standard of fun. Percival stressed the issue to whomever that was educating her, that she'd rather be learning her routine around the circus – or peek her head through the bars of the animal cages (much to her mother's horror) because she heard that one of the lions had given birth to healthy cubs. The idea of playing hide-and-seek through her father's jail cells even seemed more appealing than learning trivial things that she could easily learn at the circus.

Percival had many teachers. Mister Julius Monrey has taken it upon himself to take the brunt of Percival's learning. Blood Dupre was a rare case of an educator – he'd teach her boring things: classifying tea-leaves, taking in the aroma of tea, and drinking tea in a precise manner. Lastly, Prime Minister Peter White dubbed it reasonable that it would be he, to teach Percival the perfect ethic of being a young woman. Humorously, that would be how Percival gained another teacher, because The Queen of Hearts deemed the Prime Minister '_an ignorant bastard' _that doesn't understand the principles of being a _'young miss.'_ And that a woman should learn from other women; that a woman should be strong and be able enough to crush the heads of men. _Whatever that meant. _

"Spell cat." Julius droned, and Percival heaved a sigh; shoulders slumping, her childlike glint disappearing in her vast hues. Her hands felt small compared to the pen. Tiny digits wrapping around the base, an ungraceful method of how she curved every letter upon the paper. Percival would pause, straining to remember the letter placement, muttering to herself.

"Here." She slid the paper across the table. "Now can I go?"

"We've only begun, and you spelled _cat _with a k. Cat should begin with a _c_ and not with a _k_. Try again."

"I'd rather draw a cat instead. It's easier." The child groaned, her messy red hair flooding the sides of her face once she pressed her forehead to the solid surface of Julius's desk.

The man sighed, "You are _too_ much like your mother."

_**White**_

Circuses usually had the habit of attracting strays. With people leaving food out, and showing illusion of a safe atmosphere with small hiding spots. It wasn't unnatural that cats prowled about the popcorn carts, or lapped at the buckets of water that were usually left out for the elephants. Patron children would always stop just to admire the feline faces, hands sprawled out so they could also pet the cats; grinning to the low purrs of satisfaction that the cats gave off. Voicing, in their own way, their appreciation of being petted.

"Come out, kitty-kitty." Percival was on hands and knees, trying her best to pry underneath one of the pull-trailers, a hand reached out and stretching. The child puffed out her cheeks, holding her breath when she flattened her chest against the ground in hopes in lengthening her chances in catching attention from the cat that sought refuge underneath the structure. "Come on. I won't hurt you."

Percival found out that one of the neighboring cats from the circus have given birth to a litter of kittens, much like her father's lions, and she wanted to see the equivalent difference in the feline family. Noticeably, cats were smaller than lions and this piqued Percival's interest greatly. She's already seen the cubs, now, she wished to see the kittens.

The mother cat hunched her back, her back-hair standing on end as a warning. Percival didn't know the ethic of cats, she knew she wasn't allowed to stick her arms through the bars of the lion cages, but she was never told the signs for when to leave a cat alone. So, she continued to reach for the mother cat and her litter of kittens that curled and mewed for their mother's attention.

It took one swat and a yelp, and that was all the life lesson Percival wanted to learn. She jerked her hand back and quickly held it to her mouth, once she finally sat up properly, she began to cry. Pain barely bothered Percival. There was many bouts of her falling, where she'd simply get up and play again like it was nothing, it was more when something startled her or if she was yelled at for something. That would be an appropriate reason to cry.

Her porcelain skin lit up, blurry eyes squinting painfully over the newfound pain, and she can taste a bitter, copper flavor from pressing her hand up to her mouth to subside the sting. She sat on the ground for the moment, legs tucked underneath her ribbon-dress, a hand cradling the other. She licked at her wound, too scared to actually look over her scratch.

"And just _why _are you crying, love?" Percival quickly snapped her head upward, her wine-stained eyes staring up at the matching color of her father's. Her eyes squinted painfully from being rubbed raw, scooting closer to her father once he knelt down on one knee so he could assert the situation on her level.

"T-the cat!" She detached her mouth from her hand, her words coming off in broken sobs. "I didn't know!" Clearly, the child wasn't making any sense. Normally, it left them, mostly, stringing together a proper conclusion to what distressed Percival in the first place.

The Jester's single eye narrowed down at the hand his daughter was cradling. His usual, manipulative smile dulled when he caught three single lines etched against his daughter's hand. "Let me see." He hummed pleasantly, presenting his hand in front of her.

"No! It hurts…" Her eyes threatened to brighten with fresh tears, her face pinching up when she jolted away from her father's delicate touch. "You're going to touch it!"

"It's only going to hurt more, Percy, if you don't show me what the cat did. I promise I'll be gentle." The Ringmaster simply stated, patiently waiting while Percival hesitated in placing her palm against his. Carefully, he tilted her hand to the side to observe the scratch. Nothing serious, of course, just a petty lesson she learned quickly. The scratch was still lined in a bright crimson, but stopped its blood-flow once it was exposed to open air. "You say a cat scratched you?" The man chimed, his smile flooded his features while Percival, pitifully, nodded her head. "And you're crying over this little scratch, love? This cat barely nicked you." Humbly, White laced his wording with drawn out chuckles, amused by the way his daughter's facial structure went from pain to utter annoyance.

"It did hurt!" The child's tempted to pull her hand away from her father's larger ones. But his hands were so much warmer than her icy ones. She sighed out in frustration.

"I bet." He teased lightly, "And why do you think the cat would scratch you? Were you being rude, perhaps?"

"I just wanted to see her kittens, honest Papa. I've already seen the lion cubs, but I also wanted to see the cat's babies, too." She pouted, and The Ringmaster slowly caressed his thumb over the tiny scratch. His daughter barely noticed the exchange, preoccupied in explaining herself.

"You'll see them soon enough, I'm sure. Just – that the momma cat is going to be protective of her babies right now." He worded it to the best of her understanding.

"I wasn't going to hurt them! I just wanted to see them." Percival countered defensively.

"Well, she doesn't know that." White's head tilted to his daughter's frown, "I'd be protective of you, too, if some stranger simply wanted to _see _you for no apparent reason. The mother cat only assumed you were going to hurt her kittens, because you did intrude on her home. Do you see now, love?"

Percival didn't say anything upon that retort, she simply nodded her head in understanding. "It still hurts," She softly whined.

"Hm." Percival's cheeks flooded velvet once her father raised her hand to his lips, softly kissing the scratch. "Feel better?" The child nodded, quickly throwing her body against her father's chest and smothering her face against his shoulder.

White gathered up his daughter, cradling her close while he walked her back to the big-top tent.

_**Black**_

His posture was exact, straight, and punctual. His only good eye narrowed down in his daughter's wake, arms crossed, and idly tapping his riding crop against his arm. Percival, not intimidated by her father's usual body language, simply smiled and innocently crossed her arms behind her back. She rocked back on her heel, humming a distant tune that she _remembered_ her mother hummed every morning-cycle or whatever cycle that Wonderland dubbed as _morning. _

"Why are you so happy?" Black Joker didn't mind his daughter's sunny disposition, in fact, he was enthralled by it. The child may strike up the fool's manipulative smile, Alice's rose-colored glasses, but she had _his _mischief and personality. When she smiled like that – it simply meant she was getting into business she had no business in.

"Hm?" The child's ruby eyes widened, faking the appeal of being surprised by her father's blunt observation. "What do you mean, Papa?" She was playing coy. She was working him up before she truly asked for something ridicules. _Like fostering thirty stray cats within the prison, and feeding them a dish of milk every five time-cycles. Or insisting on gutting the cells, hang paper decor, and make room for afternoon tea parties with her stuffed rabbit and bear. _Black Joker declined all his daughter's wishes – much to Percival's disdain.

"What do you mean? _What do you mean?" _He scoffed at the decency, and the innocence of her little mockingbird voice, "Eh. Listen here, child, I know you well enough to know that you are planning or planning to ask me something that I will not like. Out with it. And don't lie to your father. _I know lies_." Of course, he would. Black Joker is the jester of lies. Silver-tongue was a trade to him.

The child finally huffed, arms falling to her sides to smooth out her dress. "Well there was something I was going to ask –"

"– Of course." Black Joker intervened which earned him a familiar scowl from the tiny girl. "Well? What were you going to ask? Posture, child! Posture!"

Percival halted her fidgeting, now firmly pressing her arms against her sides. "I was just curious if – we could play hide-and-seek." The Warden's eye widen and his daughter began to mutter faster, making sure he didn't have the time to interject her offer, "I mean – ah! We never play games, Papa. You are much too busy to even come and see me at the circus. I just think we should play a game. Momma plays with me all the time – but not right now since she said she is _sick." _

The Warden is silent for a longtime. The suffocating silence leaves Percival to fidget again but her father doesn't correct her this time around.

Yes, the matters of playing a children's game was rather obnoxious. But Percival was enduring enough and he certainly, very much, enjoyed to see his daughter happy – in his own sadist ways. He wasn't so use for caring of others, he wouldn't clarify himself as a humanist; the notion, itself, was very foreign in his point-of-view. Truly it baffled him when his daughter enjoyed his company: following him down barely lit halls, eyeing empty cells, and singing her own little song to keep her preoccupied while her father, purposely, patrolled the vacant end of the prison; majority of the time the child would try to hold her father's hand, which he complied. Half of the prison was vacant for her sake, she had no idea what her father did. Percival hasn't been down the populated section of the penitentiary, not since she was a small babe and still relied on him, the fool, and Alice to take her from one place to another. It was only reasonable that Percival wouldn't remember the masked prisoners.

"Papa?" Her head tilted, stepping forward so that her hand could ring the loose fabric of the bottom of his uniform jacket. The man hummed in acknowledgement. A hand patting the top of Percival's head.

"We cannot play that here." He lamented over the fall of his daughter's face. His voice wasn't as harsh as usual, and it seemed almost alien to Percival when her father used his calm voice. She expected the tone from the jester that lived at the circus, but not the father that lived down here.

"But why?" Her voice pinched off on a whine. Her arms now dawning to wrap around her father's leg, her face pressed against the side of his leg while she stared up at him. Black Joker kept his hand on his daughter's head, ruffling the tresses of her curly red hair.

_They couldn't play hide-and-seek because of the possibility of her wandering to the wrong end of the prison was a high risk._

"Prisons are not places for that matter. They are for holding things. Things that have lost their way." Percival had no idea what he was talking about, but she quickly smothered out an, "_oh…" _Disappointment made evident on her vocal cords.

"Come on." Black offered his hand to Percival, and she was quick to unlatch from his leg, curling her tiny hand in his much larger ones. "We can still walk down the halls. Perhaps – we can play a different game. Would eye-spy do?"

Percival perked up. It was a start and she began thinking of things from around the prison that she could use. "I got one!"

"Is it gray?" The little girl nodded her head, following her father down the long stretch of hall, "Metal?" The child nodded again, lips curling in amusement. "Is it iron cages?" The child gasped, cheeks puffing out. The man smugly grinned.

"Yes! Now it's your turn!"

"Very well."

As morbid as the thought was, he would keep that section of his life secret from his daughter for a long time. As long as she claims to be naïve and continues to think well of him. For the first time in his life – he felt a bitter feeling of being self-conscious in how his daughter perceived him.

**Bed:**

"This is why you were sick?" Percival scrunched up her face, leaning over her mother's arms to take in a better visual of what was inside the bundle. "Does anyone that gets sick end up with a baby?" Percival was an inquisitive four-year-old, as expected. Alice didn't lie about her condition of being sick, and being pregnant with her second born certainly dragged out the morning sickness in her, along with the fits of backache that was almost intolerable.

"Not everyone. It is a special type of sickness." Alice simply said. Laying back against the pillows of her cot. Percival laid snug, close to her mother, very much intrigued by the new attention to her family. Her mother said that babies were a lot like kittens. They needed care from their mother, but not as willing to play. Not yet. Percival would have to wait before playing with her new baby brother, Corvo. She would have to wait when he was much older and was able to walk on his own, but that seemed utterly boring.

Percival wanted to learn about Corvo now.

"Well," Percival shifted against her mother's warm body, her legs curling underneath her nightgown that her father changed her in, "I'm glad that you're feeling better, Momma. When you were sick, Papa made all the meals." Percival cringed, "He can't cook as well as you. But at least he knows how to braid my hair. That was about the only thing I could ask him to do." Alice grinned, but it was faint. Alice is beyond exhausted. She needed sleep. But she hasn't seen Percival all day.

"Is that right?" Alice humored her daughter.

"Uh-huh. Papa from the circus tried. But it only left Papa from the prison even more upset." Then Percival whispered in her little, bird voice, "Papa from the prison even used a swearword."

It should be an oddity to Alice that a family consisted of two fathers, plus her as a mother. This was defiantly something taboo, and by some unexplained nature – both Jokers could be one, but also coexist without each other. Percival never questioned it, so Alice never explained the reasoning behind it. All that Percival knew was that she had two fathers, and she loved them both immensely. Even if it was a little confusing when Percival would try to explain to Alice which father did what today.

"Truly?" _Momma was defiantly going to use swearwords on Papa now._

"Yes! Then he threatened to shove Papa's head in the pot of boiling water. Something about hard-boiled eggs – or did he say head?" Percival was quiet for the moment, like she was reliving an old war scene, but continued on after she contemplated her memory, "I never did get eggs. Or whatever Papa was talking about. But he did make me a peanut butter and honey sandwich." She finally said, innocently.

"Well, at least you ate." Alice sighed. She shouldn't be surprised. She knew both of the men were incapable in fixing one meal for Percival, but she had to give them credit for trying – even if it almost led to bloodshed.

Alice's eyes were growing heavy and her grasp on Corvo tightened, hoisting the bundle close to her chest, sinking into covers that flooded her and Percival. Percival found peace in her mother's presences, inhaling deeply, then exhaling in content.

"Corvo is different, Momma." The unorthodox question was rather jarring coming from the tiny girl, but it wouldn't surprise Alice that Percival has been so observant; remarkably curious.

"In what way, Percival?"

"His hair's red like mine. But his eyes are blue like yours." Percival began to settle underneath the covers of her mother's cot, situating herself before her eyes fluttered to close. "They're different. Not in a bad way. But in a beautiful way." Silence lingered, and Percival's breathing swallowed to her signs of sleeping.

It would be a long time before someone entered the medical tent. After everyone within the tent has already found peace with dreams.

White Joker dipped his head and stepped through the flaps of the tent, drawling the flaps closed so that prying eyes wouldn't spy the new addition. He slowly moved to the side of Alice's cot, silently standing there for the moment, until he hooked a finger against the fabric of the bundle that Alice held, moving away the blanket that covered his son's face. His eyes roamed over the child for the first time, tilting his head, watching the way the child slept without disturbance.

The movement startled Alice, and she quickly jolted to the blurry figure over her. She was held back down by the Ringmaster's hands; pushing her back against her bedding. "You did well. Settle. It's me." His hand moved up to stroke the hollow of her cheek. Alice didn't reply, only nodded and stumbled back into slumber that accepted her greedily.

His fingers twiddle with the cloth of the bundle again. Still very much curious, and proud about the healthy birth of his second child. Once he's captured the child's view, and deemed it time to leave Alice alone with his son, he moves to the adjacent end of the cot to bundle up his daughter so he could move her to her bed.

_It seemed odd that his counterpart never muttered from the glassy face of the mask. There would be a time and place for everything. _

**A/N: Updated with mistakes that I will fix later on. **

**Yep, Alice's second child, Corvo. I came across the name Corvo from my favorite video game: Dishonored. Ever since then, I always thought the name Corvo was extremely beautiful, being that of a boy's name. **

**Corvo: means "crow" or "raven" in both Italian and Portuguese**.

**Side Note: I actually don't see the Role Holders being rude to Alice's children. They own hearts, just like their mother, which means people will still adore them. (Since, technically, they're foreigners; not owning clocks, not being able to be replaced, etc.) There is bitterness in how Alice ended her game with the villain, considering that the Jokers "really can't partake in the game". But still, the children are welcomed enough - just not their father(s). **

**Once the children grow older, they'll become more aware in how people treat them differently. And they'll learn how evil their parent is. It's inevitable and it will happen. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Till a Century**

_He runs the scissors at the seam in the wall. He cannot break it down or else he will fall._

_**Tricks**_

_Percival: Four_

_Corvo: six months_

Corvo is healthy; he's beautiful. Simply stunning. His azure eyes clash against striking, fine crimson tresses, skin as white as ivory. He's strong enough to start sitting up on his own. He's curious enough to grab at fabrics and hair and just about anything that catches his fancy. But he's so – quiet. So unlike Percival when she was his age. While Percival screamed, cried, and laughed; Corvo is meek, silent, and very much observant. Corvo does cry, but it is a rare case. Perhaps, Alice is just being paranoid, but maybe she's not. _Maybe it's a phase. Not all babies are the same, and he is much too young for her to determine the issue. _

Alice sat cross-legged on the hard concrete ground. Corvo sat upon her lap, his eyes dozing off to White Joker whom sat adjacent from Alice. Percival lazily laid out on her father's lap, arms tucked underneath her head, her legs dangling off the side of his lap. Percival is humming Alice's _Parting Song. _Faintly, the Outsider smiles when she listens to the chime in her daughter's small voice.

"Watch this, Corvo." The Harlequin, lined in his warden attire, held his hand above his face. Percival also glanced up to watch whatever her father was attempting to do; not entirely paying attention, but she's interested enough to look up. He slid his hand over his face, and the smile that once decorated his handsome features has dissolved into a striking frown. And dare they believe – a different persona. The lap Persival was laying on was not her father's from the circus, but the father that lived in the lower birth of the Prisons.

Persival shot up, quickly to cupping the sides of the Warden's face. "Huh?!" The little girl gasped, her eyes are wide and shaken from her sleepy outlook. "How did you do that, Daddy?! Where did Papa go?" _In which, of course, she meant the White Joker. _This trick wouldn't faze the norm, considering that both Jokers looked the same – even down to the fine detail. But with Percival and Alice, they could decipher the two clearly.

Percival looked over her father's shoulder, but she found no trace of another being lurking. No signs of life crept within the halls of the Prison. Just the Warden, Corvo, and her mother whom looked mildly amused by the look on Black's face when Percival squished his face on equal sides. "Tch. What would be the point of doing a trick when you know someone else knows it?" He grumbled; the sides of his face sore by Percival pinching the muscles.

"But you can tell me!" Percival was now standing, her tiny stature only reaching his face as she stood on his crossed knees. Her forehead pressed against her father's for the moment, dragging out, "_Tell meeee –" _The man shot his daughter a cocky grin, arms crossing over his chest.

"Better luck next time, kid." Percival pulled back, a pout made clear. The Warden is given enough room to swipe his hand over his face again, dawning back to the silver-tongued Ringmaster with the wide grin.

Percival's mouth opens, then quickly closes in disbelief, "No fair!" Her hands are still placed firm against his face, tiny thumbs pulling against the grain of his face. White's laugh mixed with a subtle grunt as his daughter squeezed the sides of his face.

Still, Corvo is not fazed by the change of face, laying back lazily against his mother's stomach. Wide eyes of sky blinking up at the man, not entirely interested in whatever he has to offer. "It seems Percival is more intrigued by your fancy parlor tricks than Corvo is," said Alice, humbly grinning.

"Fancy parlor tricks?!" Both Percival and Alice jumped at the sound of the voice that echoed down the halls of the prison. Black Joker finally rounding around the corner, scoffing and mildly offended by the cheap remark from the woman who bore him children. "I'd like to see you try, bloody woman." His shoes clicked dangerously down the halls, coming closer and closer to the small group that lazily sat about.

"Hi, Daddy!" Percival perked up, hanging off the side of White Joker's shoulder. The Ringmaster has to grab the sides of his daughter to sit her back down on his lap. Percival halts, and puts up a struggle with her father by playfully wrapping her arms around his neck; her face buried against the side of his neck. This leaves White to faintly sigh as Percival moved back up to flush the side of her cheek against his face, both of them staring off towards Alice who had to endure with Black's bickering.

Black knelt to Alice's level, frowning with immense annoyance. Alice shrugged, rolling her eyes over the undertones he used with her. _He was always dramatic. _

"The baby doesn't see you as entertaining either." Black noted.

"I don't have to be. I'm his mother. I just assumed you'd be able to take part in entertaining him." Alice drolly went on, her thin arms cradling Corvo closer.

"Maybe if Daddy smiled more Corvo wouldn't be so afraid to laugh." Percival slyly whispered against the Ringmaster's face. But it was loud enough for Alice to begin snickering, and for Black to snap his head back at his daughter. The little girl innocently grinned, hugging closer to White when she felt all eyes on her, nuzzling her face against the side of his. White's laughter was louder than Alice's, looping his arm securely around his daughter when his counterpart narrowed that single, baleful eye.

"_Daddy does frown a lot…"_

_**White**_

Ever since Percival was born White has always kept a low, openmouthed, rocking wicker basket tucked away within his personal tent that's located near the outskirts of the circus. He'd fill it with blankets, and added enough support within the basket to safely situate Percival in while she slept, or while the man did whatever within his tent; organizing, chattering about upcoming circus events with his subordinates, or dealing his hand in a game of cards with Alice. He just enjoyed having Percival close while she slept in the tiny basket.

Percival has outgrown the basket, but White never got rid of it; he seemed oddly attached to the piece of cheap furniture. And good thing he didn't throw it away. The basket is now occupied by Corvo who looked rather content within the bedding, tucked away and mindlessly suckling on his pacifier.

Percival leaned forward on her knees, arms resting on the rim of the rocking-basket as her head peered over the side to watch her little brother with great curiosity. Red eyes clashed with blue, and Percival hummed happily when Corvo acknowledged her presence; she would smile down, hands unfolding so she could run her fingers carefully down the side of his face. Carelessly, tugging at Corvo's blanket to pull it up higher. "Hello, Corvo," Percival brimmed, "Are you cold?"

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" Percival perked up from the voice overhead. She quickly pulled from her brother's basket, stumbling once her eyes caught up with a single, familiar one. "Hm. And you woke your brother?" Percival didn't even hear her father enter the tent, it startled her enough that she almost tumbled into her brother's basket. Even if he was still scolding her he was still amused by his daughter's dabbling, her quick wit to understanding. It seemed too innocent and that's what intrigued him; it reminded him of Alice greatly.

"No, Papa, Corvo was awake when I came over to his basket." The child rocked back, hands nervously bunching at the hem of her nightgown.

"Still doesn't explain why you're skipping on your nap," White knelt to one knee to match her level, brightly smilingly while his daughter fidgeted. "You promised me that if I brought you with me to my tent that you'd fall asleep on the foldable cot for your nap. Love –"Percival quickly wrapped her arms around her father's neck, cutting him off. He'd respond by lightly patting her back.

"I tried. Truly. I just –"

"Hm?" The Ringmaster pulled his daughter back, tilting his head slightly to her fumbling. A smile was faintly painted, and he waited patiently for her to string together a sentence.

"I don't want to sleep alone. So I tried to play with Corvo in his basket while waiting for you," Percival took in a deep sigh, puffing out her cheeks, "Will you lay down with me? Please, Papa?"

This was a running problem. Percival had trouble with sleeping by herself. They've tried many a time to tuck her back into her bed once she's snuck into the Jokers and Alice's bed. But Percival would always return, always stumbling up the covers to cradle next to Alice or to one of the Jokers. And it's come to a point where they'd just let it be, and if she came in then they'd let her stay. It was too tiring to keep going back and forth during a night-cycle. _This placed a damper on intimacy. Alice was always afraid that Percival would walk in at the wrong moment. It was actually a miracle they had time to conceive Corvo. _

"You really do need to learn to start sleeping by yourself, love." Percival frowned, and White merely hung his head for the moment. "But – I guess I can lay down for a moment." Percival then nodded and quickly trotted off back to the foldable cot on the adjacent end of the tent. She climbed into her bedding, moving to the side to wait for her father to join her side.

White removed his hat and placed the item upon his dealing table that sat within the middle of the tent. Walking over, he picked up the wicker basket that held Corvo and moved it closer to the cot, that if Corvo was to stir he could just simply lean over and console the infant.

Percival hurried her father to lay down, snuggling close to his chest once he actually leaned back. Her fingers dug securely into his uniform and he wrapped an arm around her tiny frame to hold her. His fingers ran idly through her hair, lulling her into a sleep.

He didn't sleep. He simply waited; listening to the shallow intake of breathing.

"_I love you,_ _Papa_."

"_And I love you, too."_

_**Black**_

"You're looking so pretty, Daddy," Percival squeaked. She made busy bunching up stray crimson strands, bundling them in a tight, pink elastic band. She separated the Warden's hair into two pigtails. It was challenging to maneuver with the way that his hair was cut, but acceptable once she grabbed hold of the two longer strands of his hair near the front, off to the sides of his face.

Black Joker said nothing, he grumbled, but settled. He sat cross-legged with Corvo on his lap, letting his daughter brush his hair out and add snapped, heart-shaped, purple and pink clippies in his hair. "Ow. Careful runt." One hair pulled wrong, tugging at his root. Percival merely smiled and continued on with styling his hair.

"Sorry, Daddy." The Warden felt instant relief from his scalp once his daughter began to twiddle and pull away at the bands in his hair, but was quick to tense up again when she ran the toothy comb against his skull, pulling at the tangles she created.

Percival leaned over, eyeing over her father's shoulder who slouched, giving into movement of lulling, rocking slowly to keep the youngest asleep. "Can you hand me the yellow clip? It's in the box in front of you."

Hotly, Black leaned forward, careful not to wake his son. He plunged his hand into the tacky pink box, rummaging through the mess of twisted ribbons and clips. He's grumbling curses under his breath, mortified that his daughter was manipulative enough to talk him into sitting down and letting her play with his hair. He kept quiet. But in the back of his mind he could feel that his counterpart or Alice could round the corner at any moment to witness him in this – unfit state.

"Here." It felt like pulling some abnormal, abomination from Hell. The man kept his temper, he's kept his cool. His low voice seemed to crack, but he covered his displeasure with a gruff cough, clearing his throat. He'd straighten his posture again, folding his arms in to regain support for his son.

"Thank you!" Percival tried her best to braid the strands, tried to remember how her mother taught her. But Black's hair frayed, coming out of the simple knot. Percival would quickly clip it, holding the braid together as best she could. "It really is coming out nice." Percival hummed, pulling up the rest of his short hair that didn't touch the back of his neck.

"I can only imagine," Black mumbled. There was a hint of sarcasm, but it never reached Percival; she only gushed, leaning against her father's back as she supplied the last bow.

"Done!" Percival rounded around her father, quickly pulling her hand mirror from her box of beauty supplies. The child held the mirror up to her father, and he could only cringe to the reflection on the other end.

"Very…nice?" _Just lie. Just lie. Maybe she'll go away. _

"Really?" Percival's smile doubled, bouncing with excitement that caused the curls on her head to ruffle. "I like it too!" Impulse sunk in and Percival wrapped her arms around the Warden's neck, nuzzling securely against the dangerous man.

Corvo stirred, a faint whimper flooding the infant's lungs threatened. "Careful –"

"– I love you, Daddy." Percival's voice pinched, a giggle bubbled out, and she refused to unlatch her arms from the man.

Black balanced out with wrapping a single arm around his daughter's torso while trying to console his son's rising frustration. Huffing out, "You, too, kid. You, too."

Though for the moment, the only thing he cared about was removing the excess of clips that tangled his hair.

_**Bed**_

"Will you calm down," Black Joker muttered against the elegant curve of Alice's neck. "I put Percival to bed an hour ago and the door's locked. No one is getting in." He nipped eagerly against her delicate skin, and she squirmed against both of the men that held her down to the bed.

"I told you, I've put this off long enough, there is something that I must –"Her speech was limited and taken from her when the White Joker leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. Alice was overwhelmed. She tries to brush their hands away, but that only leaves them to try a little harder. Both of these wicked men found humor in Alice's frustration.

Once the Ringmaster moved his lips away, Alice could only pry out, "Dogs. You both act like dogs." She was furious about the interruption, tasting a sour note upon her tongue. White simply ignored her venomous tone, trailing the tip of his tongue against the bottom of her lip.

"Does this mean you're going to let me bury my bone in you tonight?" The Warden mused, darkly chuckling. He bit the side of her neck a little harder, pushing down her shoulders when she yelped. Alice flailed, purposely nudging her knee against one of the Jokers.

"Careful, Alice." White nuzzled his forehead against hers, lightly pecking her lips. The Ringmaster indulged against the subtle touch of her lips, his spider-like fingers twiddling with the straps of her nightgown, waiting for his counterpart to ease up so he could pull the upper section of her gown down. Black complied, and helped remove the single article. The nightgown slid off the side of the bed, and was quickly forgotten. Alice's bare form was put to ease once both of the Jokers surrounded her frame, lightly being brushed against their sleepwear.

The position changes and Alice's back presses to White's chest, Black settles between her thighs. He grips the sides of her hips, pulling the lower portion of her body closer to his. His long fingers curl against the outer sides of her thighs, having her thighs rest on top of his. Black hovers over her, not entirely liking the frown that plagued her lips. He leans in to connect contact with her lips, deepening the kiss when he knows that she is not going to respond.

White is holding both of her wrist, caging her close to his body. He's pressed securely against the lower dip of her back, tilting his head so he could leave some sort of mark against the porcelain of her neck. He maps out a trail of wet kisses up the curve of her neck, and becomes slightly peeved when she does not react like she usually does. He bites her against the most sensitive area of her neck, she tenses but slowly settles. This action mocks him, and his fingers around her wrist tighten.

"Are you two going to listen to me now?" Alice huffed against Black's lips, and he grunted when he pulled away to only look down at her.

"Depends if it's something worth listening to," Black scoffed.

"I can promise you, it is." Alice's tone died, her voice becoming shaky. Knowing now, that she's obtained both of men's attention.

"Then go ahead and tell us." White edged on, wanting to get on with the night; silently praying that Percival didn't knock on the door, or for Corvo to begin crying.

Alice is hesitant for the moment, her mouth is dry, and she loses that rush of confidence she was feeling five minutes earlier. White's hands loosened on her wrist and she found that she could safely pull her hands back down to her sides. "I – well, I don't actually know if this is good news or not."

"Then how do you feel about this news that you're about to tell us?" White's gentler voice caught her, and the Foreigner swallowed the lump in her throat.

"It can differ. Right now? Well – I'd say that I'm happy about this particular thing."

"Then what is it?" Black rushed her, not entirely fond of this situation and his _unbecoming excitement._

_She better just say it. No use holding back something. _

"I'm pregnant. I know we talked about not having more, but it happened." Alice practically could hear the blood rush through her veins, her heart pounding against her ears, and the rise of heat flooding the sides of her face. She wanted to cry over the silence that followed. Both of the Jokers' expression failed to show emotion, they just sat there in the same posture, looking down at her.

"I see." White finally added.

"More?" Black simply stated, as if he was running the bit of information through his mind.

"It happens." Alice choked, and her lungs flooded with grief. She was rather excited by her own news, even if she just had Corvo six months ago. She didn't want to cry, not in this predicament.

Before Alice has the time to explain herself of how this simply came, she felt warmth. White wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. And Black leaned in to softly kiss the sides of her cheeks and lick away the tears that have already stained her face.

"Will you quit your bitching? Was that all you wanted to tell us?" Black hummed, his voice laced in smothering humor, leaning in again to kiss her lips. This time Alice responded and returned the sentimental gesture.

"She does blow things out of proportion." White chimed, chuckling sweetly. He waited for Alice to tilt her head to him so he could also seize a kiss.

_They carried on for the rest of the night._

**_A/N: Yep. Alice is pregnant again. And for the last time. This was a filler chapter, so I made it a little sweet. If you guys think that's a lot of kids well - I have four other sisters and two older brothers. Yea.. _**


End file.
